If Russell Wilson had half of Kris Bryant’s self-awareness and a third of his humility, Sean Payton wouldn’t have been so tempted to strangle the guy in front of a national television audience.
It’s over, kids. Done. Finito. Seen this movie before. Doesn’t end well. Bryant’s 2024 home opener with the Rockies on Friday felt an awful like Big Russ’ home debut against Houston two years ago. Mostly because both of them spent the afternoon with their heads bowed after getting booed from here to Laramie.
“I’ve been through it all. Death threats, ‘kill yourself,’ all the craziness that this game will dish out,” the Rockies first baseman said after his teammates bailed him out, rallying Colorado for a walk-off 10-7 win over Tampa Bay.
“It’s just what I’ve been trying to talk with these young guys (about). … It takes courage to keep showing up. It’s going to make you a better person at the end of your career. It’s something that I’ll be able to teach my kid: through adversity, how you respond to it.”
Dude’s responses Friday? Mixed. And that’s putting it kindly. If Bryant’s home opener was a roller-coaster, it would’ve been banned in 17 states. Two popouts, two whiffs, and a moon shot of a home run to left in between. Tepid boos. Louder boos. Cheers. Philly-sees-Santa-Claus boos. Big Russ boos. From one of the most forgiving fan bases in all of Major League Baseball.
“Hell, yeah,” Bryant said when asked if he wanted that smoke. “That’s the simple answer. I want to play good. That’s just who I am and everything I do.
“If you play me in Monopoly, I’m going to want to beat you.”
KB23 passed “GO,” collected $182 million from Dick Monfort, and hasn’t looked the same since. As an athlete, Bryant’s as professional, courteous, accountable as they come. He’s not built for this.
The man’s not built to plop a team, a town and a franchise on his back, then carry them through the minefield that doubles as the National League West. Maybe 2017 Bryant. Or 2019. Not this version.
This version is 32 going on 50. This version looks miserable. This version can’t stop pressing. This version admitted he had no chance against three breaking balls in the shadows while batting in the bottom of the ninth with the bases loaded, no outs and the Rockies trailing 7-6. He swung anyway.
“Couldn’t see anything,” said Bryant, whose strikeout on three pitches ended a see-saw day on a sour note.
This version wanders. This version dropped on a one-hop throw at first base in the top of that same frame, a play that a rec leaguer makes seven times out of 10. The error was charged to third baseman Ryan McMahon, allowing the Rays to go up 7-6. This version tried to play hero ball on opening day.
“Oh yeah, of course, 100%, you want to go out there and do something for the home crowd (on opening day) and give them something to cheer about, give them something to go home to and have a good night,” Bryant said. “Of course you want to do good. I’m not going to be up here and tell you it’s not like that.”
This version is a $5 million bat with a $28 million price tag. Bryant’s one hit in five trips upped his average from .100 to .120. That’s disquieting, given that KB23 isn’t a slow starter by nature, having come into Friday’s tilt sporting a .281 career average over March and April.
You root for the guy. You cringe at the contract. This version seems doomed to forever win bar-room arguments as to the dumbest Rockies contract ever, doomed to follow Wilson’s fate. This version is going to force Monfort to swallow the same crappy, bitter, money-sucking pill the Broncos just gulped to get Big Russ off the books.
It’s just a matter of when.
“He knows,” Rockies manager Bud Black said of Bryant and the boos that rained down. “He knows his place on this team, and the responsibility of that. I mean, he gets it. … You know, he understands the highs. And, you know (Friday), there was (booing). You know, we heard it.
“But he’s got a lot of pride. He cares a lot. You know, professional athletes in some ways are conditioned to this. They get it. The good ones get it. The guys with perspective get it. and you keep fighting through all that. It’s part of what we do in this job. And we understand that. So I think he’ll be fine.”
Boos? Not fine.
Death threats? Not fine.
“I don’t know who from … but I’ve opened my Instagram before and seen it,” Bryant said. “It’s happened to a lot of people. It is what it is. That’s the world. Like I said, I delete all my (social media) stuff at the beginning of the year.”
But you still have accounts?
“Well, yeah, I keep it. I have to for obligations of sponsorships. (But) you’re not going to see much of me on there.”
He smiled. Grimly. Let’s hide.